Fugitive Prince

by March Madness

A prophecy stretches war a decade too long, ending with the Potter’s second son flourishing while the first suffers a dark life of ignominy. Harry Potter now rests in the hands of Fate as he’s forced to prove his worth to a world that doesn't care to

19. Chapter XVIII

Fugitive Prince

By March Madness

But all these stories came to nothing. Nothing was ever proved. Men debated and discussed these things a thousand times--who and what he had been, what he had done, where he had come from--and all of it came to nothing. No one knew the answer. But I think that I have found the answer. I think I knew from where he came.

He came from darkness. He came out of the heart of darkness, from the dark heart of the secret and undiscovered South. He came by night, just as he passed by night. He was night's child and partner, a token of the other side of man's dark soul, a symbol of those things that pass by darkness and that still remain, a symbol of man's evil innocence, and the token of his mystery, a projection of his own unfathomed quality, a friend, a brother, and a mortal enemy, an unknown demon, two worlds together--a tiger and a child.

"Child By Tiger," Thomas Wolfe

Chapter XVIII

Sirius winced when he saw the smoke, remembering too late about the heating charm left on his morning bagel. Dismissing the spell, he approached the smoking bread gingerly, picking it up and letting it out with a yelp for his burned fingers. Glaring at the food, he threw down a cooling charm that would have frozen ice, and then strolled over to the cabinets to see if there was any grub he could use to repair his torched breakfast.

A container of cream cheese, cool enough to soothe his burns, was yanked out and within moments he'd slathered practically the whole contents of the container on his blackened bagel, creating an inch-thick layer of smooth cream to cover the sooty bread beneath.

When the others walked by, he'd begun eating and, truthfully, the result hadn't been too bad. Biting through the sweet (too sweet) layer to the ash remains of the bread created a unique taste, one of those sweet-and-sour combinations.

One of his subordinates stopped to state at him with amused disgust. "What are you eating there, boss?" she asked curiously, obviously eyeing the towering layer of cream cheese. "Looks a little much."

Sirius grinned at her, using the back of a hand to clean off some wayward food, and answered by taking a finger and scooping through the cream cheese to the bagel beneath.

She made a face. "Gross! It's burned black!" Incredulous, she added, "I don't think any amount of sweetener can make that thing good enough to eat. It's pure carbon, that's what it is."

He shrugged, licking the cream cheese off and taking a bite where there was nothing to sweeten the burn. He nearly choked on the vile taste, but managed to keep his face straight, swallowing with a tight jaw. "It's all a manner of taste. I happen to like my bagels like that."

Shuddering, the witch turned away and started walking out of the break room. "I'll go around and remind everyone not to let you pick up food. By the way," she paused and looked back at him, expression formal: blank with no registered emotion, "they're up again. The Healer was able to fix everything from the first two, but... the last one she's only been able to waken." She let something slip. In her eyes, she was accusing him of going to far with that last one-

No, he corrected himself, seeing the light again in her eyes as she tilted her head to one side, staring at him a moment longer. There were no accusations here. She was asking for permission to emulate him, to do as he did. She was asking for that kind of power.

He smiled at her in an acknowledging fashion, in a way that he'd invented during the war that would completely cover his face without touching his eyes. "I'll be there as soon as I'm done." She wasn't ready for that kind of power. If she wanted it, she wasn't ready for it. "Thank the Healer for me, and tell her she's done her duty. I'm sure her family's missed her by now."

"The witch doesn't have any family. They were all killed during the war. It's amazing how she's able to treat them even with that. If it'd been me, I'm afraid I'd have killed the villains." She left, probably realizing that she was pushing the relaxed code of the break room too far, pushing to the point that he was getting annoyed.

He ate the last of his bagel in thoughtful silence, no longer tasting the burnt crispness nor the smooth sweetness as he swallowed and chewed. The three wizards in custody had all been captured in the middle of London, all posing as muggles. Even thinking about them made his insides curdle, completely erasing any relaxation he'd gained from this break.

They'd been posing as muggles, and had tried to pass Harry Potter off as a distant nephew, his friends off as visitors to the family, but they'd broken down when Aurors had charged into their hideout.

So far, the only thing Sirius had been able to...extract from them was that they'd found a potion that would block the bindings' effect for five days. Residue from it had been found in Harry's bloodstream during the routine Ministry check. The kidnappers found it and immediately thought of kidnapping the country's teenage champion for reasons not yet clear. He'd find the reason, though, even if it killed them. There was no way anyone did that to his godson.

A calm fell over him as his only superior walked into the break room, an upright, gray, fussy man who was fanatic about rules and procedures. The man dressed impeccably and the part in his hair was as perfectly straight as he was. The man wouldn't want to see him so emotional about a case.

Bartemius Crouch barely glanced over at Sirius as he reached for a prepared cup of coffee--black and unsweetened. His single glance, covering everything from the crumbs of the bagel, the smell of burnt food, the nearly-empty container of cream cheese, and the Auror's face, left everything stripped of disguise and saw right to what had happened. He grunted once, taking a deep swallow.

"Burned your food, did you?"

Sirius snorted, hiding his smile behind a blank expression. "'Course not, sir."

"Hmm..." Crouch took another drink, his eyes drifting around the rest of the room. "You've gotten a sweet tooth from when I've seen you last then, because that cream cheese was full the last time I saw."

Guiltily, Sirius swiped the container back into its cabinet, where cooling charms immediately began replacing gained heat. "Unless Mad-Eye comes in here, no one else is going to know about that." He wizened up, and seriously stared at his superior. "I'd heard you managed to get back here. Retirement wasn't kind to either of us, I see."

"Your godson wasn't kind to either of us," Crouch corrected grumpily, face as dark as ever. He made a rough gesture. "Everyone's heard of how it is between the two of you. A disgrace, that's what it is. Boy thinks he can get away with anything, and you're letting him. Meanwhile, that Leo is-"

Sirius cut in curtly. "Call him Leonard. He doesn't like anyone other than family calling him that."

The Ministry official shrugged carelessly. "Does it even matter? He's-"

"I also heard that you were reinstated while in the middle of a private investigation," Sirius interrupted again, arms folded across his chest. This news had come straight from Arthur Weasley, and the Order had asked everyone to look into the matter. Why, Sirius had no idea; Bartemius was an ally, not an enemy, and he'd been a darn good ally at that.

The man's face, closed as ever, seemed to shut up on itself, and he made an uninterested sound. "Maybe so. You planning to breach privacy?"

Sirius didn't answer. He'd had enough thinking, and was ready to get back extracting answers.

Surprisingly, though, Crouch made a hesitant noise, eyes watching Sirius, fully focused. Sirius gazed back curiously. He couldn't remember the last time his boss was hesitant about anything. "What would you say if I told you I've discovered a living relative of the Dark Lord?"

"The Dark Lord?" Sirius hissed, eyes flying wide. He felt his mouth drop open. The official watched him with lidded eyes, eyes that saw everything. After swallowing a few times, Sirius managed to choke out, "I didn't realize we'd found out who... who he really was."

"It was blind of us," the older wizard replied absently, eyes sinking back into themselves as he thought, perhaps even forgetting Sirius was still there. "He always claimed to be a direct descendent of Salazar Slytherin, and that family kept meticulous care of their history up until half a century ago. The newer records were hard to come by, I swear, but..." Crouch blinked, snapping out of it, and stared slyly up at the Auror, an eyebrow twitching. "Again, what would you say, knowing there's a living relative?"

"I'd say to make sure that person was kept under constant supervision," Sirius bit out, sounding mangled and feeling completely dazed. He shook his head, missing the calculating expression on his superior's face.

"Oh, we are. Better than any on the planet." Crouch walked him out, at his side the whole way through the Ministry down to the interrogation rooms, his presence as Sirius tried to sort out that bit of information. No wonder the Order was curious! They knew Crouch had found something and they'd rightly suspected it'd be a threat. By Merlin, a Slytherin, a real Slytherin?

History had been most sharp on the Founding families of Hogwarts. The four Founders were the most famous wizards and witches on record, and their bloodlines had been nearly worshipped by the magical community until they'd dropped out of sight a few hundred years ago. Sirius glanced at Crouch out of the corner of his eyes, still walking swiftly through the building. Where had that old wizard managed to find documentation for one of the families' lineage? Myth had it that those records were kept hidden by the families to protect themselves. And, if Crouch had found the Slytherin bloodline again, had he found the Gryffindor?

Entering the interrogation chamber erased all such thoughts from Sirius's mind. He straightened in the darkness, ignoring Crouch's blaring presence in favor of the three strangers. His face was grim.

When he'd left for his break, two Aurors took over for him and both were still going at it with a vicious efficiency. One stood back, wand out and providing a witness to the proceedings, while the other was questioning without break or pause.

"What is your name?" the second asked. No answer. "Why did you kidnap Harry Potter?" No answer. "Are you in anyway connected with the so-called Death Eaters?" No answer. The three prisoners only stared at nothing, wrists bound with chains to the floor. Giving in to a fit of frustration, one of the Auror bashed a prisoner's head with a fist. "Talk!"

Again, the only response was silence.

The first Auror lazily glanced over and caught sight of Sirius, nearly jumping from his robes at that. "Mr. Black! We thought you'd be awhile in the coming." At the greeting, the other stood up hurriedly, face slightly flushed at having been caught in the act of such violence. Both were too new to have been in the war.

"It doesn't take long to eat a bagel." Sirius calmly looked at his two subordinates. "I'll be taking over from here." The two Aurors exchanged glances, then hurried from the room without a word. As they shuffled from the room, Sirius nodded towards Crouch. "If you don't mind, I prefer to work in privacy."

The official gave Sirius a look, sharp and piercing. "Don't get over your head," he warned pointedly, heading towards the door. In the poor lighting, Crouch's straight face made him look like some half-painted artwork, not quite finished enough to receive its humanity. "I'll be doing enough work as it is, trying to calm down the French. The Minister says they're panicking, worried that the guards we forced on them aren't enough. They'll be trying to bleed my forces for that blasted school." Pausing at the door, Crouch glanced back quickly at Sirius one last time before walking out.

One of the prisoners looked up weakly as the heavy door swung shut with a magical slap. An expression of hatred blanketed the man's face for a moment before he convulsed, making a choking sound, and fell limp again.

The look made Sirius pause in recognition. It was a look he'd received from every captured Death Eater, and a look he thought he'd wiped off the man's face before. "Do you remember who I am?" he tried softly, walking towards that man slowly, knowing full well that their treatment could have caused temporary memory loss. He hoped they remembered. Being forced to start from the beginning would be wasteful. The other two prisoners winced, backing away--or as far away as their chains allowed them. Technically, the actual chains were simply ornamental, as metal alone could hardly hold a panicked wizard, but they did serve in preventing much mobilization.

The prisoner spat out "Sirius Black" like the name was a curse.

Sirius nodded, stopping to lean against a wall. "Do you remember why I'm here?"

There was no answer. The prisoner grimaced and looked down, as if willing himself to complete silence.

Sirius didn't care. He'd had plenty of experience with voiceless Death Eaters before, and knew that each had a limit before breaking. His heart froze at the memory of all the carnage he'd seen them leave behind, and he stared at the man in front of him, a man who seemed almost like another species. Being allowed to wither away in darkness had caused corruption beyond any healing, but Azkaban would have to be filled beyond limit for England to be rid of such filth. Such filth could breed even in the shadow of a blink.

Casually, he asked, "Do you remember what we were talking about before? About those Death Eater codes of yours-"

"I'm not a Death Eater!" one of the others cried out dully, voice hoarse. "I tell you, I am not."

Sirius ignored that one. That one had been yelling the same phrase the entire evening, and repetition gave no proof. "You were telling me," he continued, addressing the first one, "about how superior you were to the muggle-born. I was just thinking a minute ago, that if you're so much better, shouldn't you be trying to be the example? That would be much easier than any exterminator role-"

The Death Eater hissed out a breath, chest collapsing as Sirius pulled his fist back. He'd have to remember to take it easy. The Healer wouldn't be pleased if she had to redo all her work, and no Mediwitch could match her expertise.

Getting no response aside from an angry sputtering of broken breath, Sirius started his circling again. "I'd thought we were making some progress earlier, when you told me how my godson with kidnapped from his school." He only kept calm by biting the inside of his lips; he only kept from attacking the three again by clenching his fists. "But now it looks like you're back to resisting." He paused, in front of the first prisoner again and asked very softly, "Do you know what that means?"

The wizard trembled slightly.

"It means that I'll have to start all over again." Sirius let his words sink in before continuing. "I only want a few simple things. Your names, and your reasons. Then we'll be able to take you before a jury and have you judged. All of England's waiting to see your faces--the news has only just gotten out about what you three have done, and no one can quite believe it. I'd rather have them see your real faces, but if this takes too much longer, they'll have to settle for some quick charm work-"

"I can't tell you," another voice quivered out in fear. It was the last one, the one who hadn't spoken. Now he opened his mouth only to give Sirius a sharper rage. "I--if I tell you, you'll kill me!"

"I don't kill," Sirius replied, leaning back against the wall again, presenting a calm image to trick the three with. "At least, I don't like to."

But the prisoner shook his head violently, making the bruises from earlier abuse stand out even greater. "You'll kill me."

"Try me," Sirius challenged, annoyed with the man's delaying tactics. There was no response, so Sirius walked over to the other two. "Anyone can talk here. You seem to be forgetting that it was my godson you kidnapped! I want to know what happened, what you did to him, and what you were planning on doing. If you don't begin talking, I'll lose my temper." His calm tone didn't do much to hide the rage in his voice and eyes, the fury that was waiting for the slightest trip to be let loose.

The talk came slow at first, mumbled and broken sentences that hardly made any sense. He hardly needed to use much magic after that, and then all his spells were aimed only for temporary damage. The Healer would be proud of him.

The three's reasons made a sort of dreadful sense, logic that Sirius couldn't contest. Apparently, there was a leak at the school, and certain individuals had realized how the champions' odd sickness connected with the first task, fearing that Leonard Potter would break down if he realized his brother had been poisoned. A potions brewer had made the formula, then they'd sneaked onto the school grounds with intent of saving Harry Potter's life.

The only thing they forgot was that Sirius Black had no idea that there was a plan to poison his godson.

Harry led the two into the Great Hall amid the flurry of other students scrambling to assemble for the meeting. However, he stood out: proud and calm, Harry was the only champion not completely bewildered. Outside, the sun's last rays tipped past the western horizon, and the students eyed each other warily. It was the last day in the month of September. The task's time was now run out, yet despite the prepared and waiting stance the resident champions had held all day (at least those who could stand; even with the positively magical recovery of almost every sickened champion, three or so still lay ill in the hospital wing) nothing had happened. There had been no task, and the champion's vigilance had all been for naught.

When Draco hissed these disparaging words quietly to the group of three, Harry narrowed his eyes and didn't reply. For him, the pieces had already fallen together, answer having come when the day passed by without event to create a decidedly twisted conclusion. He kept tight reign of his fury, though, keeping it cold and locked away, cracking behind his eyes like pressured ice.

For this ceremony, the Ministers of each separate country made a presence. All of them donned black robes, the attire of judgement, and marched about with solemn expression. Something serious must have happened, Ginny deduced softly, and Harry clenched a fist. Something serious did happen--someone hadn't gone according to plan, despite efforts to fix the problem.

The sun was completely erased from the sky, and thousands of small candles floated in the air as a defiance of the night. Harry had chosen the seat closest to the door, planning on bolting as soon as the ceremonies ended--or once the opportunity presented itself when the gathered Aurors lost their sharp awareness. As though one of those guards felt Harry's eyes, a head turned and looked at him, coldly examining. A shiver of nerves ran down Harry's spine. He broke the visual contact immediately.

In an effort to press time faster, Harry leaned forward and struck his elbows on the table, fingers steepled and expression intensely blank. Ginny asked him a question that was answered with efficient politeness and nothing more. His concentrated state drew the amused looks of the other champions, them believing him cast out of his depth in this Tournament and close to panic... until they remembered who hands had passed along the fast antidote. At the memory, amused expressions became ironed flat, leaving speculating eyes and vaguely suspicious frowns.

The ceremony began quickly, a show of efficiency in gaudiness. A Minister, designated as one of the many hosts that evening, abused the privilege by shamelessly praising a single champion throughout wisps of truly meaningful words during his delegated time. The next few followed example, claiming gloating and flattering rights. However, if their actions were meant to boost moral, the exact opposite reaction was produced: this process of singling out a select few only served to alienate those champions, making them as pray to the others.

In a tournament of this size, pride was as high-strung as temper. Nationalistic feelings came out with alarming fervor. Each teenager had been burdened down with the load of their country's dignity, and the load was heavy.

Like lobsters in a can, each champion was willing to pay any price for victory, try any strategy for success, yet they would not suffer any peer to do the same and win out. The mindset was becoming increasingly firm: win at any cost and prevent everyone else from doing the same. With each speech, with each champion praised, the undercurrent of resentment grew thicker until the hairs on Harry's neck stood up in shrill warning.

He felt a doom-bell ring the moment Minister Fudge stood amidst applause, face flushed merrily.

"Welcome, welcome!" the Minister greeted. A translating spell in effect echoed his words into a dozen languages, each sounding like English to Harry. He sat up straighter, ignoring Ginny beside him and Draco watching. He wanted to know the reasons behind the month's activity, wanted to know if there was something he didn't know that would make it better, more acceptable than it currently was.

"I know many of you were waiting for the first task to begin, and more than a few of you were disappointed. True, the sun has gone down. The month has ended. But that doesn't mean that there was no task. On the contrary," Fudge paused to leer over the group, "many of you have passed with flying marks."

The quiet in the hall was one born of polite surprise, many of the teenagers wondering if Fudge had gone nuts. Task? There had been no task. The month had been needlessly squandered, and there was nothing else to be said about it. Draco grunted, voice hardly carrying. "Waste of time indeed," he echoed in a purring tone. "Granger's about to blow a fuse without having anything to do."

Ginny glared at him, the action seen out of the corner of Harry's eyes. "Don't be so quick to insult her when she isn't here," the witch whispered back.

"Now that the month is over, it is time for us to reveal what the first task was... and what the next task will be." Beaming through the excited calls, he motioned for the hall to quiet down. "Yes, yes, that'll do. I know you'll all very anxious to know both of those things. First, though, I have a sad announcement to make. Not all of you passed this first task easily. That is not to say that you will be disqualified from the Tournament--by at least getting through this task, you have clung to the Tournament and will be able to go on to the next task. But your hardships bring up a certain point that needs to be addressed."

He cleared his throat noisily, and Harry suspected the Minister was doing it more for the attention than for any actual need. The noise was terrible. "This is a very strict Tournament, and as such there will be some hard rules to follow. The most important is also the strictest, and that is that by failing one task, any single task, you are dropped from the others and by that, I mean dropped completely from the Tournament. There will be no second chances here, I'm afraid, but doesn't that also make the entire thing more exciting?"

Despite his hard smile and the scattered applause, most of the champions only looked between each other darkly, the friendships developed in the past month dissolving in an instant. Fudge and the other Ministers had just turned the whole ordeal into a very cutthroat business, and Harry decided on a hard note that they would have to deal with the consequences. Already, he could see certain schemes forming in certain champions' minds. They would do anything to win, even if that meant breaking the rules. "Accidental" collisions in the hallway were about to grow dramatically in number, and a few champions would probably find themselves in the hospital wing due to their own mates.

Fudge went on in depth about other pointless ingredients being added to the Tournament, and Harry droned him out, feeling suddenly very tired. Meticulously, he blocked out all thoughts of travel. Snape's potion ended this morning, and the binding's pain was now set to return in full force.

Finally, the speech was over, and Fudge began his slow explanation of the first task.

Harry could have swallowed his tongue. Hearing the words made his anger bloom up, the confirmation of his suspicions like an explosion of red. The first task had been a deliberate poisoning of the champions, having been accomplished at the welcoming feast. The first task had been deadly, and there was no excuse to it.

There wasn't anything to be said. The rest of the students thought it an amazing secret, and gushed to each other without pause until the Minister finally silenced the room with a booming shout. Some laughter started, humor found in such a clever thing of the Ministries.

Ginny, though, she snapped her eyes up to Harry in semi-horror. "Oh," she breathed, staring at the boy, her heart pounding. "Oh."

Harry ignored her as well as he did anything, looking straight back towards the Ministers without so much as blinking. Dozens of furtive glances were sent his way that Ginny was aware of, like little pinpricks across her skin, and she shuddered at the suspicion lurking behind all those eyes. They had to be champions. Hermione had told her all about how they refused to drink Harry's antidote, and now they were probably wondering how he knew in the first place.

Swallowing, the Gryffindor girl threw her head down, forcing her eyes to focus on the clenched fists in her lap instead of the rest of the dizzy room. Voices continued, droning on about the specifics of the tasks from how the potion was made to the antidote for it, and how much care the Ministries took in choosing the specific poison to insure that no one was unduly hurt in this measure.

"Idiots," she heard Malfoy mutter beneath the loudness of the room. Against her will she peeked up at him from the corner of her eyes, only to see him staring almost angrily at Harry. Ginny looked over as well, seeing a hairline crack through Harry's calm, seeing the tremendous effect the laughter was having on him. The others students thought this whole thing a fine joke, like a trip down a scary ride only to come out safe at the end. Harry didn't look like he cared, but his face was tight enough to drain blood.

She didn't realize she was staring until he looked over at her, blowing her away with the sheer fury in his eyes. Instinctively, she leaned close to him, mouth parted open and eyes wide with sympathy. So angry! "Harry..."

"They didn't think," he murmured, a dark rant that matched his eyes, that only she could hear. "Someone could have died. All for a bloody contest." Her hand on his wrist, she could feel his muscles tightening in controlled rage, could feel his body practically shaking. He stared back into her eyes. "Someone could have died."

Ginny couldn't think. Her skin tingled as though some cold chill had just passed through her like a ghost, and abruptly all the noise stopped. It was only when she couldn't see his eyes anymore that she realized all the lights in the hall had gone out.

Someone grabbed her shoulder and ripped her away as a tumultuous noise erupted, students panicked at the sudden plunge into darkness and a voice hissed into her ear. "Stay away from Potter, Weasley."

At the front of the room, the Ministers laughed and explained off the blackness, claiming responsibility for the lights' dousing. It was time for a magical show, and the ceiling of the hall was suddenly blazing in fantastic colors, like smeared fires. Each country contributed something, be it a fiery shower of colors or the shadow of some creature. From Fudge came the four animals of Hogwarts, adding to the beauty of Europe's magic.

By the light of the show, Ginny saw cold gray eyes glinting at her, narrowed with some dark emotion. She jerked away, glaring at her attacker. "Don't touch me."

"Stay away from him," Malfoy warned again, hand coming off of her shoulder distastefully. That expression, as if merely touching her was enough to make him contaminated, made Ginny's insides shrivel, and she flushed with rage. Deliberately, she turned back around to look to Harry again.

He was gone.

The front doors opened, letting in a long silver light from outside, and Ginny half-stood, thinking she'd see Harry. But instead of just a singly person, there were two. The Aurors at the door held them back a moment, properly chastising them for coming so late to the ceremonies.

"You're absolutely horrible, Ron. Look, everything's started already--I told you we were late."

"You were the one who wouldn't leave, not me, Hermione. I was ready to go-"

"You were wearing wrinkled robes! Even I think it's a bit too lax."

The voices were whispered angrily back and forth between the two as they stumbled blindly in the dark. Ginny let out a low breath of relief. Finally Hermione and Ron decided to show up. When she'd left them back in the apartments, she thought that they'd only be a few minutes longer at most.

Ginny stood up, waiting for a flash of light to wave her hand wildly and loudly whispered, "Hermione! Hermione, we're over here."

The two figures stopped just at the moment the light show ended and the torches returned, leaving Ginny standing like a maniac. She flushed deeply, but few noticed her aside from the two she was trying to get the attention of. Ron sauntered up with a smug grin on his face. "Gee, Ginny, thanks for saving us so many seats."

Hermione, though, looked a little concerned as she sat down. "What's the matter, Ginny? Something wrong?" She looked around. "Where's Harry and Malfoy?"

"Harry just left but Malfoy..." Ginny turned around and made a little noise of surprise. "Malfoy's gone, too!" The empty seats around her were like testiments to her carelessness. How could she let both of them slip away? Her cheeks burned with embaressment.

"We noticed," said Ron with that smug grin still on his face, "which is why we asked in the first place."

"Shut up, Ron," Ginny shot back huffily, moving to stand back up again. "I've got to go after them!"

"Go right on ahead," her brother allowed magnamnamously. "Be sure to come back when Harry chews you out."

Ginny's mouth dropped open, her cheeks bruning with anger now. "Harry is not going to chew me out!" she declared loudly. The Ministers had returned to their closing speeches and most of the rooms attention was focused on them, but the few students nearby turned to give her a hard stare. Ginny swallowed and sat back down.

"He won't," she continued in a much quieter voice, but Hermione's blank expression stopped her. "What?"

"Well..." The girl laced her fingers together and gave Ginny an imploring look. "He... Harry might, actually. In fact, if he did anything else, I'd be very much surprised."

Ginny felt her mouth dropping open a second time. "Hermione," she said in a pained voice, "I thought you were on my side."

Hermione laughed quietly, letting her head shake slightly. "Oh, I'm on your side, Ginny, but I have to tell you when you're going about it the wrong way. Remember what Ron saw?"

She did. Memories--so many that they blurred when Ron had tried to get a sense of order from them--all of Harry Potter as a child, spending time in the presence of Death Eaters. All stored in a Pensieve at the Malfoy Manor. Her stomach felt like its bottom dropped out at the memory of what Ron claimed to have seen.

"Of course I remember," Ginny said with a harsh tone to her voice, trying to keep it from shaking. Death Eaters playing--playing!--with a little boy. Teaching him the Dark Arts. Brainwashing him. She swallowed tightly.

Ron, however, was not so nearly as moved by the thought. Seeing her pale expression, her brother rolled his eyes mercilessly. "Come on," he sighed over the sound of applause as one of the speeches finished. "It had to have been over five years ago. Harry's been living with Sirius Black since he was ten, remember?" He lowered his eyebrows. "I thought we decided that Harry was in no danger of becoming a Death Eater."

"I wasn't worried about that!" Ginny gave him a disgusted look, insulted that he'd think it of her.

"We decided that Harry wasn't in danger of becoming a Death Eater as long as he stayed away from Death Eaters," Hermione clarified for the two of them. She leaned forward on her elbows. "But we also decided that it'd take more than a few days to get Harry to trust us. We decided that we weren't going to push him so hard so early," and her stare was hard when she looked at Ginny.

"It's not that I'm worried about Harry becoming a Death Eater," Ginny repeated desparately, trying to make sure they understood what she was feeling. "I'm not worried about that at all. I mean..." She let the words hang aimlessly, unable to break her promise to Harry. Much of what he said made sense, now, and she knew he'd never forgive them for killing his parents, but she just wasn't free to explain it to her brother and friend.

"We know." Hermione smiled and patted Ginny's hand reassuringly while her brother rolled his eyes again. "I can't imagine Harry ever following people who killed his parents, but they made an impression on him when he was younger. We have to make sure that impression isn't still there."

Ron snorted. "Right," he dragged out the word, "enough with all this 'feelings' nonsense."

"You're not going after Harry," Hermione declared with a little nod towards Ginny, "because we're going to take it slow with him until he knows he can trust us."

"Why did he run out in the first place?"

Ginny blaunched. "I almost forgot. The Ministers. They told us what the first task was."

"First task?" Hermione raised an eyebrow in surprise, but Ginny thought she detected a skittish nervousness in her eye. "I didn't think there was one."

She gave the fifth year a searching look, then straightened up suddenly. "You know," Ginny stated with a little surprise. "You know--you knew!"

Hermione's expression fell. "So it really is-"

"And what about us who don't know?" Ron interrupted, giving Ginny a strange look, one that he passed on to Hermione. His forehead wrinkled. "You know, Hermione, it's a little scary when you figure out everything." Hermione only let out a long suffering sigh, slumping forward to lay her head against the table.

He frowned, looking bewildered. "So, I take it that whatever you know, it's not good news?" he asked Ginny.

Ginny smiled in a self-depreciating manner. "You're going to love this," she started darkly. "The first task was the poisoning of all the champions at the welcoming feast. They were supposed to recognize the symptoms of a massive poisoning, diagnose the specific poison, and come up with an antidote for it. If you got through the first month, you pass the task."

Ron's blank look was all the worth it.

"Wh-what?"

"It just made sense," came the low murmur from beneath Hermione's hands. "Some of the ingredients... only the Ministry has access to them..."

"This is a bunch of-"

"Ron!" Ginny grabbed his robe sleeve as he angrily started to stand, and using all her force she managed to yank him back down, hard enough that he slammed into his seat. "Running up there and punching Fudge won't solve anything." She paused, then smiled. "Though it would be very funny-"

"This isn't funny, Ginny!" Ron yelled at her, albeit very quietly. The explosive sound didn't carry past their table. He took a deep breath. "Hermione could have died-" He stopped when Ginny started shaking her head.

"No," she interrupted softly, and Hermione lifted up her head to listen, "they said they timed it so that no one would be killed by it. The poison was a very slow acting one. Even if she didn't take the antidote, Hermione would have half a month left before it started getting really serious. Look, over there."

Ginny pointed carefully to a few tables away from the front where a girl and two boys were sitting, all old enough to be champions and all looking very ill. A Ministry official was at their table, passing out small vials and whispering to them.

"She's one of the champions who didn't take Harry's antidote, but she's still fine enough to come here tonight. The two guys, they're the same way. Technically, since they survived through the first month, they've passed the first task, but Fudge said that they'd be handicapped since they didn't get any antidote by today."

A minute or two passed in silence as the three watched the champions. Hermione finally said, "At least the tasks are going to be interesting."

"Say that to Harry," Ginny answered darkly, feeling a chill run through her when she remembered the look he'd given her before disappearing. "I think he doesn't find the Tournament interesting at all."

It wasn't until the ceremonies were over and dinner done that the three started back to the apartment. Hermione pulled out of her pockets the day's Prophet, shaking her head at the front headlines.

"Listen to this," she directed them: "'Minister Fudge has confirmed the kidnapping of the five Hogwarts students currently residing at Beauxbatons for the European Wizarding Tournament. Among them, Harry Potter, Hogwarts' champion, was suspected of being the real target with his friends being dragging into the incident.'"

"Friends," Ron scoffed. "Not bloody yet."

Hermione skimmed down, mumbling under her breath, then she looked up. They'd stopped under a lamp post to read to paper before getting to the apartment, which was just a ways off. The lights were on. Someone was in, at least.

"There's not a lot more," she continued, sounding a little disappointed with the paper's attempt. "But I have to say that I hope Lucius Malfoy picked some good men to cover for us. Whoever they are, they've already been taken in for questioning by Aurors.

"'Currently, Aurors have taken in three wizards, named unreleased. The only link tying these wizards to the kidnapping is the fact that Auror Sirius Black has taken charge of their questioning. A Ministry official stated, "If Black's here, it's got to be about his godson," meaning Harry Potter.'"

They looked up at each other. Finally, Ron looked away and softly said, "They had better be good men. Aurors have a knack for finding out everything."

Hermione swallowed and continued reading a last few words: "'The students were taken anywhere from three to five days ago, but are now returned safely to Beauxbatons. It is rumored that more Aurors will be assigned to the school's safety, though those rumors are unconfirmed.

"'In related news, the Boy Who Lived, Leonard Potter, has vacationed from his home at the Black Manor. Though his whereabouts are not known, it is known that Mr. Potter was informed of his brother's kidnapping. Speculations are that Leonard Potter's disappearance at the same time of his brother's reappearance are no coincidental events, but only the working of Leonard Potter in finding out and capturing his brother's kidnappers.

"'It is expected that Leonard Potter will remain in seclusion for a short while, taking a much deserved break after such heroic efforts.'"

"Well, if that doesn't beat all," Ron quirked. "We're kidnapped for some unknown reason and then rescued by Leonard Potter himself. If I didn't know any better, I'd say this sheer sensationalism."

Ginny smirked. "Don't joke," she warned seriously. "I bet that people will be asking for your autograph after this. You've gotten closer to Leonard Potter through this newspaper article alone than most people ever will."

Hermione tapped the paper to her chin with a vaguely thoughtful look. You know," she started slowly, "Leonard Potter didn't really come to rescue us."

"Really?" Ginny laughed. "What a surprise."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione continued, "No! What I mean is that, since he wasn't there to rescue us, it means he disappeared for some other reason. Because of this article, no one will think twice about Leonard Potter being gone for any amount of time."

Ron shrugged, stealing the paper away from Hermione and letting it slide to the ground. "So?" he asked carelessly, even as Ginny glared at his back and picked the trash up. They started walking again to the apartment. "It doesn't have anything to do with us-"

"Which is exactly how you felt when the champions got sick," interrupted Ginny.

"Which is exactly why we should be concerned about this," finished Hermione. In the twilight, it wasn't too hard to make out her contemplative expression. "I'm beginning to think that this International Wizarding Tournament means we need to start paying a lot more attention to international events than we usually do."

"Leonard Potter's disappearance isn't an international event."

"It is," Hermione pointed out, "when he's never gone missing before. I know all about it. His guardians, if not the Ministry, won't let him out of the house without sending out a mob of Aurors to make sure he's all right, and even they're outscored by how obsessive the media is. They hounded on for days before he even showed up in Diagon Alley with Harry at the start of the semester. They know his every plan--they have a department devoted to knowing exactly where he is at all times. So it is strange that the only mention of his vacation is a sentence or two at the end of another article."

"Maybe you're wrong," Ginny said with a shrug. They were near the door to the apartment and she rattled the recovered paper in her hands. "They might have another article devoted to him--you didn't check the entire paper, did you?"

"I don't have to," came the simple answer. "Leonard Potter's front news and nothing else. They'd never think of putting him a page behind anything else."

Ron let out an amused sound from the back of his throat as he opened the door for them. "That's our Hermione," he announced loudly, closing the door behind him once he'd stepped into the bright area. "Knows every little fact there is to know about nothing."

"At least our evening wasn't an entire waste!" Hermione let her robes slide off and threw them over a chair, then gave Ron a look. "At least I accomplished something."

"You know," she continued, pausing near a chair, "I was thinking about how we should start getting to know Harry. Listen to this: we should all go out somewhere for a few hours and just talk."

"Go out?" Ron looked a little unimpressed by the idea. He raised an eyebrow. "I don't know, Hermione."

"It's a good idea," she insisted, bringing a smile to Ginny's face. Hermione was so stubborn sometimes. "What if we all went and walked around through the grounds tomorrow. It's not like any of us have really spent any time out on campus, and Beauxbatons is such a beautiful school. We could pack a picnic basket and just have a fun time away from it all."

"Well," Ginny gave them a small smile, "I for one think that it's a good idea. We really haven't done much out here. I don't want to go back to Hogwarts to admit that I didn't spend any time in the gardens."

Ron rolled his eyes. "What exactly is so fun about gardens?" he asked with a sour face. "I mean, I could understand if we went hiking through the forests, but they're forbidden. I don't want to have to spend all day lugging a basket around while you two go crazy over weird statures."

Hermione smiled at him apologetically. "Sorry, Ron, but if the two of us agree, then it's decided. I'll try to keep the cooing down to a minimum." She glanced at Ginny. "but we should first make sure Harry comes with us. He's the target, after all. Ginny, could you go see if he's here?"

"Why wouldn't he be here?"

"It's just a possibility-"

"You think there's somewhere better to be at this time of night?"

"Harry?" Ginny called out, stepping tentatively through the hall. The lights were on, true, but she didn't hear any noise aside from Hermione and Ron's familiar bickering as they started at it. Through the crack at the bottom of his door, it was clear that no one was in Harry's room. A few steps down showed the same sign from Malfoy's.

She shook her head in frustration and turned around, loudly announcing, "It doesn't look like they're here."

Ron bellowed that he'd thought so, and Hermione chided him for being so noisy.

"Right." Ginny walked by and blew out the torch in the hall. Without the bruning fires, she could clearly see outlines thrown in Harry's room by his large windows and the moonlight streaming in.

And one of those outlines moved.

Ginny stared at it a moment, struck dumb by the possibility that Harry was in there and had heard them come in--heard them bellowing about him--and the outline moved again. Definitely a person. She knocked softly on the door. "Harry? Harry, are you in there?"

The door opened and it was not Harry Potter.

It hadn't been the easiest thing, finding Harry Potter. The boy had taken to wondering through the grounds like a lost dog and Draco was very near considering buying him a leash. Certainly Potter wouldn't mind--if anything, Draco was sure that the other boy would be glad to be anchored down by something.

No, finding Potter hadn't been easy. Talking to him had been harder and persuading the Gryffindor to finally head indoors was the worse. At the end, it took a mention of the plans in work for Fudge to get Potter to budge. Reaching the apartment after spending over an hour outside and being on his last nerves, Draco had actually been momentarily grateful to see that the lights weren't on. The others had to be asleep, and he graciously forgave them for just dropping off while he'd been out in the cold, more relieved that no one would be up to see him so discomposed than anything.

Therefore, Draco thought himself excused for his reaction upon walking into the apartment.

Potter was following wordlessly, so quiet that Draco fought against the urge to turn and make sure he was actually there. They got to the apartment and Draco felt like his eyes were dried up with sand. After all, the Aurors hadn't allowed them much sleep the night before, and even after they left Draco couldn't fall asleep when he knew Potter would try something stupid, like sneaking the antidote off to the rest of the champions.

The fact that he'd been right didn't help matters. The fact that the poisoning had been the first task didn't help matters. Had it been up to him, Draco would have bargained for every last drop of the antidote; finding out that, by giving them the antidote, Potter had actually helped them, had nearly enraged Draco--such a wasted opportunity, one worth so much.

He dragged his feet up to the apartment door, nearly stumbling on the slightly raised step into the room and almost stopping when he felt the nice, soothing heat of the air. He sighed and, in a voice that was scratchy and tired and so different from his normal voice, he quietly said, "It looks like everyone else is gone to bed."

There was a slight squishy noise behind him, the sound of fabric, and then Potter had entered the room and closed the door. There was just enough light to reflect in his green eyes so that he looked more like some feline creature, with those bright green eyes settled against midnight black shadows, when he looked over at Draco. Draco wanted to smack him for looking so awake when it was so late.

"It looks like," he echoed softly.

Draco shrugged his shoulders irritably, shaking off his robes. Fog had been gathering and his clothes were now slightly damp. "Right," he stated in his gravelly voice, "I'm going to bed."

It was when he was going to carefully spread his robes on a couch to let them dry out that he noticed her, and without thinking he cursed, "Damn it, Weasley. Can't this wait until morning?"

"It's good to see you, too, Malfoy," she answered lightly from where she'd been sitting on the couch, still as a statue.

"It's never good to see you," Draco replied bitterly, sinking onto the couch opposite her. He let out a long sigh. "I'm taking this to mean that you don't want to wait until morning-"

"Just go to bed, Draco," Potter interrupted. Draco looked towards where his shadow had been and Potter had taken out his wand, had relit the cool torches. The Gryffindor looked over at him again. "Whatever she wants to talk about, it can wait until morning."

"Actually, it can't," Weasley objected lowly. She was tired; it was hard to ignore how her eyes were squinting wearily in the torchlight, how she was struggling not to let her head rest against the furniture.

Draco frowned at her. "Well, what is it?" he asked angrily, wishing he could curse her to make sure she'd never sleep another day. His bones ached, and there was Potter, sitting down as if it were still midday.

The girl swallowed loudly, eyes staying mostly on Potter but occasionally straying to him. "Harry... Harry, your godfather's come to visit."

"This can wait until morning," Potter declared suddenly, springing back up from his chair.

But as he started quickly for the halls, she loudly said, "He's waiting for you in your rooms. And... and he's saying that you're brother's coming to visit."

Harry stormed into the room and saw him. He'd hoped that Ginny was lying, that his godfather was not waiting just feet away, but there was no denying the fact that Sirius was sitting on his bed, eyes closed and looking half-asleep.

The wizard roused himself at the sound of Harry's door slamming shut. "Harry..."

"What are you doing here?" Harry cut in viciously. Days apart from the wizard hadn't improved Harry's feelings towards him. He could still remember their argument, remember Sirius's hypocrisy, and the memory burned.

He hadn't tried to hide his animosity, so Sirius picked up on it really quickly. His godfather half-winced, then frowned. "What do you mean? Can't I visit you just for the sake of it?"

"You could," Harry answered slowly, "but you'd never do that. You only bother me when you want something."

'Tell me about Leo,' he urged, but kept quiet.

"I thought you should know that we captured the Death Eaters who'd kidnapped you," Sirius began after a few minutes of silence. His godfather looked like he was doing everything in his power not to explode, but just seeing that filled Harry with an inane urge to see how far he could push the older wizard. How long would Sirius last before blowing up.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "It's about time, considering they were there when you found us." He shook his head and leaned back against the doorframe. "I already knew that, Sirius. Tell me something I don't know--tell me something I need to know--or just leave me alone."

Sirius narrowed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Is there a reason you're being so nasty?" he asked with an edge to his voice.

"Because I don't like you," Harry shot back without thinking. He cringed inside, but Sirius hardly reacted at all. His godfather only froze for a minute, taking another deep breath, and remained very stiff.

"I... I can understand that," Sirius replied slowly, swallowing loudly. "I know you blame me for getting kidnapped in the first place, you blame me for making you come to school at all. It couldn't have been very fun with those Death Eaters-"

"As a matter of fact, it was the best time I've had since leaving the Black Manor," Harry interrupted loftily.

"I know that you have very good reasons not to like me right now," Sirius bit out, teeth grinding. Harry raised an eyebrow and Sirius sighed, clenching his laced fingers together in an obvious attempt to stay calm. "That's fine. But I just came here to tell you we know why they kidnapped you."

Harry blinked, suddenly remembering that Lucius hadn't said much about their alibis, only that they didn't need to worry. He was interested in what the Malfoy had managed to plan, how the wizard had managed to fool the Ministry.

'Not that it would be very difficult,' he thought dryly, staring at his godfather. 'Look what they have to work with.'

"I heard that Fudge announced what the first task was," Sirius went on, his face going very pale and his voice dry. He had to stop a minute before going on. "But even though no one was told before today, your kidnappers had been able to read all the signs of a... of a poisoning. They didn't want Leo to have to deal with your death so they kidnapped you, planning on giving you the antidote."

'A very good alibi,' Harry judged, impressed. 'Just say Leo's name, and no Ministry official will touch them.' And, this alibi would also account for why Harry wasn't poisoned and why he had been able to bring back enough antidote for the rest of the champions. Harry smiled faintly. 'Lucius, you're a genius.'

His smile had a calming affect on his godfather. Sirius smiled back faintly, looking a little hopeful. "It is a little funny," the man agreed, jerking Harry from his thoughts. "It's always about Leo, isn't it?"

Harry's smile abruptly faded, turning instead into a faint frown.

Sirius stopped smiling as well, eyes looking a little sad, and he slowly started to stand. "I... I just thought you'd want to know. I just wanted to make sure you're ok-"

"Feeling guilty?" Harry asked, curious. Sirius looked almost... almost hurt. Hurt in a way that he'd never looked before. He frowned more. "Why? Why would you care?"

Sirius's shoulders shuddered and he sat back down, hands coming up to cover his face. It took Harry a moment to realize that his godfather was, in fact, crying softly.

"Harry... Harry... you could have died..."

Harry's eyebrows shot up and he backed uncertainly into the door. "... um..."

Sirius suddenly leaped up, taking long steps across the room to grab Harry into a huge hug before the boy even realized it. His godfather was muttering some babble under his breath, something about, "I was so worried," "could have died," "never let anything happen."

It was one of the strangest moments in Harry's life. He stayed very stiff even as Sirius tried to fold him in two, not quite sure how to react. His mother had always hugged him when he was little, his father as well, but Sirius had hugged him only once or twice in the last five years. With Sirius, it was always anger and fights; never crying and hugs.

Awkwardly, Harry tried to back away, but he was right against the door and Sirius was clinging to him in an almost desperate fashion. He couldn't stand it anymore and he roughly tried to push his godfather away. "Get off of me," muttered Harry, swallowing uncertainly. "Sirius, let me go."

Sirius slowly let go, lifting Harry's chin to stare into his eyes. Harry jerked away from the touch, feeling burned. He felt like he was suffocating. "Let go!"

"Harry-"

"No, get off me." Harry shoved him back, breathing quickly. "Don't touch me."

His godfather looked absolutely confused. "Harry," he started, taking a step forward, one hand out to touch Harry's shoulder. "Harry, what's going on?"

"You can't do this," came the quick, low answer through his harsh breathing. "You can't do this to me. It isn't fair."

"Wha..."
Harry gestured violently. "This!" he spat out, feeling a lash of anger at the wizard before him. "You can't just... can't just come here and pretend like you care. It isn't fair!"

Sirius's eyes widened. "Harry, I do care-"

"Liar," Harry shot back hurriedly, as though he were hyperventilating. He shoved back at Sirius, quickly stepping around the Auror and gaining more breathing room. "You're a liar. I've learned to live with you for the last five years, and I'm not going to let you do this to me."

His godfather stared back at him wordlessly.

"I'm not," Harry swallowed, eyes feeling tight. He glared. "I'm not going to believe you when you pretend like you think I matter. I know you don't. I know you hate me just as much as I hate you, Sirius, so you can't trick me now."

"Harry..."

"Shut up," Harry interrupted coldly, viewing his godfather through lidded eyes. "I know all about you. How did you find out the reason behind my kidnapping? How long did you torture them? And they were just trying to help me. I bet you don't even feel sorry. I bet you didn't even think about them after you left."

"You can't do this, Harry," his godfather started in a pleading tone. "I was just doing my job."

"Then go back to the Ministry," Harry answered calmly, feeling nothing more than disdain now. He raised an eyebrow. "Go back there and stop trying to pretend like you care about me. I'm still here, out of the way. That's all you wanted, isn't it? You can go back and tell the world what a wonderful godfather you are, how you came and personally made sure I was fine, how you did your duty. I don't care anymore."

He had almost forgotten about Leo until Sirius quietly said, "If that's what you want, Harry. I'll leave." There was a defeated tone in his voice, but Harry knew it was probably just an act, a last effort to make him give in. "I'll be back in a few days, but I won't try to bother you."

Harry turned around, forehead wrinkled. "Why?"

"Leo wants... Leo wants to come here and visit you." Sirius smiled weakly, but it only lasted a moment before disappearing. "I won't bother you, if you don't want me to. But, if you do want to talk..."

"How long is Leo staying?" Harry asked hesitantly, trying not to let Sirius see how much he wanted to see his brother. Talk of Leo brought about a new light in the conversation.

Sirius shrugged with a bitter expression on his face. "As long as he wants."

"And you'll be staying with him?"

"Some of the time. Remus will be coming as well."

Harry shrugged back. "Whatever. I won't let myself get kidnapped again before you come, if that's what you need to hear." Sirius had a flash of pain run across his face, there and then gone. Harry leveled a hard look at him, willing himself not to care. "Is there anything else."

"No. There's not." Sirius stared at him a moment, then slowly turned. "Goodbye, Harry."

Harry tilted his head and watched his godfather leave, waiting until the door shut behind him. Then he felt a slow burn start in his head. "Well," he said aloud, very slowly, "it's... it's a good thing I had some warning about this."

Except he hadn't had any warning, and he was still very angry...

"You idiot," breathed Ginny darkly, hands clenching into small fists. "You absolute idiot."

Malfoy smirked at her over his cup of steaming tea, but it was ruined by the haggardly way he looked; he was just as tired as she was, and just as unable to sleep. Both of them wanted to do nothing more than run up to Harry's room and put an ear to the door, but Ginny wasn't going to do anything like that while Malfoy was around. And she wasn't going to let him try anything like that, either. Her job, currently, was to make sure Malfoy didn't leave the room.

"As interesting as it is to hear you say that, and have it not directed at me," the Slytherin began smoothly, the drink having cleared up whatever had been wrong with his voice, "it's also maddening."

She was tired and her thinking a little foggy, so she reacted almost violently to Malfoy's words. Thrusting an arm in the general direction of Harry's room, she hollowly said, "The Prophet just said something about Leonard today, how he planned on disappearing somewhere. I should have realized he was coming here to visit Harry."

Ginny looked up in time to see Malfoy's frown. "Why is that?" he asked, sipping at his tea. "You're not even marginally intelligent, Weasley. I doubt you'll figure out any mystery in your time."

Her glare was ineffective as he was too busy closing his eyes to notice. "Well, I just hope you're happy," replied Ginny bitterly. "Leonard's going to come here and ruin everything I've done for Harry."

Malfoy had leaned his head back against the supporting cushions of his couch, eyes closed and hands steadily holding the cup of tea. For a moment, Ginny felt a stab of envy born from her tiredness. She only wanted to go to sleep...

Without opening his eyes, the Slytherins suddenly said, "Two points, Weasley. One: Potter is not your pet project-"

"Oh, that's right," she interrupted with a gush of sarcasm, "he's yours."

He smirked, peeking an eye open. "And they told me Weasleys can't learn." She rolled her eyes. "But again: Potter's not some hobby you can pick up. Despite all your funny little beliefs, you've not molded him or taught him or whatever else you think you've done. He's not going to listen to you. He's not going to let you 'guide' him like he's still a child. You've basically done nothing for Potter and you'll never do anything for Potter. So stop whining.

"And two:" he let his head lay back against the cushions, "why so worried about a family reunion? You seem more worried about little Leonard than about Black. Personally, he should be you're number one concern... if you're so upset over Potter in the first place."

"Are you finished?" Ginny asked with feigned politeness. She glared at his mocking gesture to speak. "Well, I should just say that you're completely wrong about Harry. If you knew half the things I did about Harry and his brother, you'd be like me in wishing he never shows up."

"Half the things?" Draco snorted, closed eyes crinkling in scorn. "Weasley, I know more about Potter than you'll ever be privy to." He yawned before continuing. "I know for a fact that this quest of yours, trying to make Potter into something he's not, is infuriating not only to me but to him-"

"I already knew that," Ginny interrupted, but her voice was trembled a bit. She was biting the inside of her cheek. "I know that he hates being here, that he only wants to go back home to Leonard--but I know that it's not good for him!"

Grunting, Draco crossed his arms over his chest. "At least we agree on that point," he admitted reluctantly.

Getting her glare back, Ginny continued. "I know that Harry doesn't like to be the center of attention, that he doesn't like getting noticed at all. He only wants to live for his brother, he's completely obsessed with Leonard." She yawned, too, and the last words out of her mouth had been spoken with a weary slowness.

"You make that sound like a bad thing," Draco commented dryly, "which is surprising, coming from you with your family history. I thought all the light wizards worshiped Leonard Potter."

"I...also know that Ron knows more about Harry than you do," Ginny informed him snidely, but her voice sounded like she was fighting to just get them out. "In fact...Ron met Harry...before either of us did and... and..."

"And?" Draco prompted, curious despite himself. She didn't react at all. "Hey, Weasley."

Draco slowly sat up and was amused for his trouble. It seemed that poor, young Miss Weasley had fallen asleep mid sentence. He smirked tiredly, the expression fighting to stay on his face.

He meant to do something about it, really. No one fell asleep talking to a Malfoy unless the Malfoy wanted them to. But somewhere between putting his cold drink aside and shifting to get comfortable, Draco blinked a little too long. His head rolled back onto the cushions and he fell asleep.

"Get up."

Rough hands jerked at his robes, pulling him up a bit before letting him drop back into his chair. Draco blinked his eyes open slowly, mind unwilling to fully let go of his good dreams. "Wha..."

Green eyes, narrowed in unleashed anger, burned into his face. "I said get up."

"Get your hands off me, Potter," Draco snapped, instantly alert. He swatted at said hands then took a moment to rearrange his clothing. A quick look around the room showed that it was barely dawn from the light coming through the window, showed that he had fallen asleep on the couch waiting for Potter to come out, and showed that Potter was now angry as a bull over something or other.

And, truthfully, that last part was really quite frightening.

Eyes blazing and face pale, looking like he hadn't slept the night before and like he'd never sleep again, Potter stood only at arm's length. His fists were clenched and held stiff at his sides, as though he were forcibly holding back from lashing out with him, and his face was thoroughly blank of any expression or emotion. Draco stopped and stared for a moment, startled. He'd seen this lack of expression directed at the Gryffindors, but to have it directed at himself was a whole different matter.

Aside from purely physical indications, Potter was giving off a near scent of anger. The very air seemed electrified with it. His body was screaming the emotion, drying Draco's mouth and hurrying his heartbeats. Sleepiness was gone instantly.

"What is it?" he asked after a long moment, swallowing and hoping Potter couldn't guess just how intimidating he looked. He put on a bored expression. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it's not enough to excuse you for such a rude awakening-"

Harry glared at Draco, eyes narrowed to green slits that were darkened with some hateful emotion. The look alone made Draco shut up. "That's all you ever seem to think about, isn't it?" the boy began darkly, slowly crossing his arms over his chest. "What you want. But I have a question for you: what happened to our contract?"

"Excuse me?" Draco blinked. "I don't recall having made a contract-"

"I answered all your questions," the Gryffindor continued hatefully. "I've been completely honest. But what about you? What happened to finding out about my brother? Why didn't I know about this?" And he kicked a foot towards the chair, hard enough to send a jolt through the furniture and shove it back against the wall.

Draco sat up quickly, standing from the chair and hoping Potter wouldn't decide to just take another swing--this time at a warm body. "Is that what this is all about?" he asked slowly.

Potter turned and paced across the room. When he came back, he glared. "Of course. Do you know what I've spent the last hour doing? Talking to my godfather about my brother's plans to come here for a week. I had to hear about it from him."

He rubbed at his eyes, quietly murmuring, "I was a fool for believing you. For believing anyone."

Draco tilted his head towards one side. This new turn was not good. "My sources will need some more time to break into your house," he announced, swallowing again when Potter looked up at him. His voice picked up speed, trying to sound completely believable. "Aside from the multitude of Ministry protections laid onto the foundations, Dumbledore has added his own wards. If you want only a single report, garbled because there was only time enough to quickly jump into the house, take a look around and then get away, tell me now. I had thought you wanted a system in place, which will be ready in a week or two."

Harry glared at the boy for a moment longer. "Why should I believe you now? Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

Draco sneered. "Well, for starters, I think I should be the one doubting you. How do I know you've been telling me the truth? If you can't believe me on my word, why should I believe you?"

"That's not an answer-"

"I gave my word," Draco interrupted loudly, taking his turn to glare. He let his body tense, let himself look the picture of insulted pride. "A Malfoy's word is enough. I thought you knew that. I also thought that you'd be able to figure out for yourself why it was taking so long. You yourself know about all the protections on your house. No one could just waltz in there."

Draco shook his head in indignation. "This," he continued, waving a hand to include everything, "this is an enormous insult to me. Do you have any idea... My family is known for keeping their word, and for you to say you can't trust that... My parents wouldn't understand it."

"Leave them out of this-"

"They're in it already," Draco snarled back, thinking quickly. "Isn't that what you meant, when you said you couldn't trust anyone? Do you know how much trust it's taken for them to let you back into their home? You lived with an Auror, for Merlin's sake. Who knows what you've spent the last five years doing, what you've told them?"

Potter's face went pale, and Draco let out a low sigh.

He added, "I just thought that you should know, before you decided on who your real friends are, that I've seen my parents the last five years. They worried about you, even if they could hardly approach you, but they never thought you'd do anything to betray them. This is how you repay them, is it?"

The Gryffindor looked absolutely torn, and Draco couldn't have been more relieved. All the anger had been abandoned, leaving behind just a lonely teenager who had no idea what to think anymore. Potter's eyes drifted close and his body trembled slightly. With a gentle hand, Draco forced the boy to take a seat.

"I just thought," Potter murmured, "for a moment that you hadn't done anything." His eyes opened, bright green colors wallowing in misery. "I'm sorry."

Draco swallowed, struggling keeping his breathing normal. "I did agree to." He looked around, escaping eye contact. "What time is it, anyway?"

Potter shrugged limply, looking like a chastised child ready to undergo any punishment to make up for his wrong. "It was two when Sirius left. It might be half after by now."

"Black isn't the only one you need to worry about." Draco gestured to the Weasley girl, who was still asleep on the couch across the floor. "Weasley there is sounding as if she's becoming an expert on you."

The Gryffindor nodded silently, head slightly bowed. This must have been the boy his parents knew, one willing to do anything for a little friendship.

"Get some sleep, Potter," Draco ordered roughly, leaving the room and leaving the teen behind.

He nearly ran to his own rooms, heart racing and blood singing in his ear. Before he'd taken even a single step towards the bed, Draco summoned a quill and some parchment. The quill came flying like a dart. He scribbled out a quick note then looked around. "Elf! House-elf! I know you can hear me!"

Draco waved the parchment around, turning all directions in the room. "Take this to an owl and have it sent to the Malfoy Manor--immediately!" He put the message down, turning around the room one more time. There was a popping noise behind him but by the time he's spun to meet it, both the house-elf and the note were gone.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione smiled brightly, but in her head she could hear the echoes of his conversation with his godfather the night before. She pushed those thoughts out of her head and made sure her smile was just as bright. "Harry, how would you like to come out on a picnic with us?"

She gestured to the basked of food sitting on the table, hoping that he'd say yes.

Ron shook his head. "No," he said slowly, "no, that just doesn't sound enthusiastic enough. Come on, Hermione, say it with some spirit this time!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You know, Ron, it's getting difficult."

"What is?"

"Keeping myself from smacking you with this basket."

Ron grinned widely at her. "You seem to be doing a fair job of it, though, as my head isn't hurting."

Hermione smirked, then sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Do we really have to practice?" she asked. "I mean, it's just a question. Harry will either say yes or no-"

"The way you ask," Ron cautioned, "might decide that."

"He'll say yes or no because he'll decide what he wants," Hermione decided firmly, "not because of how I frame the question."

"Good morning," Ginny announced, stepping into the kitchen. She looked as if she'd slept badly, Hermione thought, gazing at the girl's wrinkled robes and dazed expression.

Ron laughed out loud. "Morning, Ginny," he returned, still grinning. "But I'm thinking that you're not making it any better, walking around like that."

His little sister frowned severely at him. "Shut up. While you two were eavesdropping on Harry last night, I was making sure Malfoy didn't get in the way." Her expression softened. "By the way, exactly what did you hear?"

'Nothing good,' Hermione answered silently, trying to keep her expression light. Aloud, she replied, "A few things."

"Like the fact that Harry truly, honestly, and with every bit of his soul, hates his godfather," added Ron sarcastically.

"I thought we guessed that," Ginny started.

Hermione shook her head. "They were angry at each other that night," she remarked, remembering the night that they'd stumbled over godfather and godson, when Harry had run off angrily. "But last night was much worse than that."

"Seriously, Ginny, they don't like each other."

The Weasley girl smiled sadly. "Maybe it's just another fight," she tried. "Every family has huge fights every once in a while."

Hermione and Ron exchanged glances.

The night before had been too great a temptation: seeing Sirius Black waiting his godson, seeing his dark expression, the three of them had pulled back to wait for Harry to come back. Black had stayed in his godson's room, giving the students ample opportunity to plot their spying scheme. When they saw Harry and Malfoy approaching, Ginny stayed behind while Hermione and Ron had ran ahead, getting in place to hear every word spoken.

"Harry..."

"What are you doing here?"

"Whatever it is," Ron was saying, "the two have a few issues to work out." He quickly related how the conversation had gone, sharing Ginny's dark look at the end of it.

"And so, Black will be here in a few days?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yes." Hermione cleared her throat, then smiled brightly. "But I think we should worry things we can manage for now. We can't very well mend Harry's home life, even though I doubt it's very healthy. We can help him with his school life." She pointed to the picnic basket. "What do you think?"

Ginny looked uncertain. "What exactly did you pack?" she asked. "No more of those poisonous sandwiches, I hope."

Laughing, Hermione shook her head. "No, they're all gone. I fed them to Ron this morning."

"Hey!"

"That's good news!"

Hermione patted the basket. "I actually just left a note for the house-elves last night. They worked pretty fast, and now we have an excellent lunch ready for us. We just need to wait for Harry to get back."

"He left?" Ginny looked stricken. "Where? Did either of you talk with him?"

"And say what?" Ron asked, frowning at her. "Just go up and say, 'Hey, Harry. We just listened in to your conversation last night, and personally we think you're a little hotheaded with that godfather of yours.' That'll go down well, don't you think."

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek guiltily. "No, we better make sure he never finds out about that. I don't think he'd trust us if he did."

The look Ron gave her said it all. 'Do you think he should trust us now?'

"We only did what we thought was best," the witch objected nervously.

"Why don't we go and find him?" Ginny suggested. "And, no, Ron, we won't go and tell him how we eavesdropped on him and his godfather. But we need to ask him about this picnic idea sooner or later, and he might not plan on coming back here for a long time."

The three started out, Ron lugging about the picnic basket and shutting the door to the apartment. He paused for a moment. "You know, I was just thinking. What about Malfoy?"

"Malfoy?" Ginny's eyes widening and she gave her brother a searching look. "You want to invite Malfoy along with us?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "No, Ginny, I don't. But do you think Harry's going to come along without the prat?"

It was a cool morning, crisp and clear. A few clouds marred the perfect sky, looking like someone had scrubbed away the blue in long streaks. There were many other students out and about, a few even walking around with picnic baskets as well. Those laughed and waved back to Ron, pointing to their own packed lunches as if the coincidence was really so humorous.

The Great Halls' doors were flung open, letting in the cool air, and Hermione peeked in as they got close enough but she didn't see Harry anywhere. Even when Ginny ran up the stairs, looking into the library, they didn't find the missing Gryffindor.

"Maybe he already went into the gardens," said Ginny with a helpless shrug. "Maybe he knew we were coming."

"This is Harry we're talking about," Ron pointed out with a little edge of irritation, "not some psychic, Ginny." He heaved the basket over to his other hand, complaining loudly about its weight. When he saw Hermione roll her eyes, he gave her a hard look and thrust the basket out. "You carry it, then," he challenged.

Hermione, to his surprise, merely picked the basket up, grunting a little when she realized just how heavy it was. "You're so silly, Ron," she muttered, wand out and performing a lightening charm. The basket practically floated up after that, and with a smug look she handed it back. "Can you handle it now? Or is it still too much for you."

"I meant to do that," Ron declared firmly, the ends of his ears burning up even as he held his head tall. "I didn't want to have to rely on magic to carry around something like a basket. We have to depend on ourselves sometime or other, you realize."

"Hey, look at that," Ginny pointed out.

At first, Hermione had no idea what she was talking about.

There were only students walking around in the direction she pointed at, going to and from their own dormitories, talking and laughing. An Auror stood out; a professor walked by. She gave Ginny a questioning look.

"There. Look at those two," Ginny specified, indicating two students out of the many dozens. The students in particular were looked older, and Hermione assumed that they had to be champions to be so noticed. "They've been walking by and watching us. I didn't think so at first, but it's like they're always there."

"Who are they?" Ron asked, watching the two with open suspicion.

Across the way, the two students looked back, leaning in towards each other to have a whispered conversation. The first was a tall, dark boy and the second a girl, just as tall, with long black hair and Hispanic origin. The boy sent Hermione an angry look.

"Whoever they are," she answered slowly, "they don't look friendly."

Ron glared. "I'm not going to just put up with it," he declared. "If they want to look at us like that-"

"Ron, don't!" Ginny lunged for his robe sleeve but he merely yanked it out of her hands and stormed off in the direction of the two.

The boy watched, surprise registering on his face, and Ron stomped right up to him. "Do you have a problem?" he asked loudly, ignoring Hermione's groans in the background as the two girls caught up with him.

The foreign student shook his head mutely. His friend rolled her eyes, tugging on his robes to turn away.

Ron kept his glare up. "If you don't, then why are you looking at us like that?"

"Lookin' at you like what?" the stranger demanded, pulling his own sleeve free of his friend's hand. She sighed, looking resigned to settle whatever hand fate dealt. The boy leaned forward into Ron's face. "What? I am not free to look how'ver I want to?"

"Felix," the girl muttered darkly, "knock it off."

"No, Adele, I will not 'knock it off,'" Felix replied angrily, narrowing his dark eyes. "We all know what happened, all of us champions. This Harry Potter is set as the first champion above us simply because he was kidnapped! He did nothing to deserve it--he did not even stay for the ceremony to hear how he is the first champion."

He jabbed a finger towards Ron. "And now his friends wander around the school, mocking us."

"We're not doing anything," Ginny said, eyebrows raised. "Certainly not 'mocking' you."

Felix glared at her. "You think that just because you come from Hogwarts, that just because you come from the oldest school, that you are better than we. But Hogwarts is nothing anymore. An old ruined castle with bad teachers and worse classes. Hogwarts is outdated. You are not better than we are anymore."

"Enough," Adele, his friend, suddenly cut in, grabbing his arm and pulling him aside. "You will say no more. It is an insult to hear you speak."

Felix turned around even as he was dragged away, glaring at the Hogwarts students. His expression turned nasty. "You warn your Harry Potter. Warn him that we know he does not deserve to be in this tournament, that we know he only steals his power from his brother. Warn him that we will not allow him to stay the first champion for long."

As it turned out, though, they didn't need to tell Harry anything. Just as the two champions were dragging and getting dragged away, all of them noticed Harry just approaching the Great Hall.

"Great," Hermione muttered under her breath, taking a single step forward before realizing it was too late. The boy, Felix, had ripped himself free of his friend and had made a beeline for Harry, stopping to begin his rant. Harry's expression, even from the distance, looked distinctly bewildered. "Come on," she said, charging forward.

"You were given the antidote," Felix was nearly screaming into Harry's face when they got into hearing distance. "It is not fair-"

"Felix, that is enough," the girl announced sharply, voice edged. "You do no good here-"

"Let me alone, Adele," Felix snarled, pushing her back. "Let me alone. You know how we feel--every champion feels that this is not right! You even agree. I say he is to know."

"You are making yourself into a fool," the girl hissed, straightening her hair. She gazed coolly around; a small crowd had gathered around the pair, watching Felix's ravings and Harry's reaction. She raised her head. "This is no sport. There is nothing to see here. Leave at once."

Felix had started up his grumbling again, lower now to carry to Harry's ears alone.

Ron set down his basket. "Knock it off," he yelled out at the other champion. "Leave Harry alone."

Hermione nodded once. "You better," she warned, "for your own sake." Ginny, standing behind her, crossed her arms over her chest threateningly. The boy Felix, however, took no notice of them.

And Harry took no notice of him. From the crowd, his eyes locked onto one girl's, and he took an uncertain step towards her. "You're better," he called out, confusing Felix into silence. "I was worried that you wouldn't take the antidote."

"Who is he talking to?"

"Her, I think."

"Oh," Ginny started, recognizing her. She turned to Ron. "Isn't she the girl that Harry took to the hospital wing?"

His brother shrugged. "Maybe. I'm not really good with faces, though."

The girl smiled brightly at Harry, stepping forward to meet him. "Yea, Ah'm all betta noah. Ya shuda seen me tho--t'weren't a pretty sight." She laughed merrily, slinging an arm over Harry's shoulder and dragging him into a huge hug. "It's actually a pretty good thang you came along when ya did. Heard Ah was on me last rung. But no worries, it t'weren't but three of us tha' diden take yer potion."

Harry blinked, slowly understanding. "Only three didn't take the antidote?"

She laughed again. "'O' do ya think's still in tha sick bed? Ain't none other than tha Szepsi girl, and her two lads. And aren't they tha ones tha' woulda had us all believin' tha' you weren't but tryin' ta give us more poison?" She shook her head seriously. "Ah say, it ain't none but just tha' they be tha' ones sick noah, and we be the ones well." She patted his shoulder fondly.

"Well, I'm glad," Harry answered slowly, seeming a little tense from all the touches. He pulled away reluctantly. "I'm Harry, by the way. Just in case you didn't know."

"And Ah'm Eachna," the girl answered, holding her hand out and shaking Harry's firmly. "From me homeland o' Aerland, ifen ya can tell."

"Harry!" Hermione called out. She motioned to her two friends. "Come on, let's get him to go out before Malfoy comes around. I bet he's only a minute or two away--and I don't want him to come!" Ron, with a sigh, lifted up his basket of food again, and then the three of them quickly walked over to where Harry was still standing with the Irish girl.

"Lisen, Ah've been wonderin' if ya plan on speakin' with tha rest o' us champs," the girl was saying, her eyebrows lowered dramatically. "Ye ain't but said two words since this whole mess started up, and we've been missing yer company. Eve'one else at least comes to suppa ta talk, but not you."

Harry ran a hand through his hair nervously. "I... I didn't realize that all the champions ate together."

"Sure they do! Almost ev'ry night. This ain't all 'bout tha competition, ya know. Some o' us be thinkin' that it'd be nice to be having a friend or two when we get to leavin'." She smiled at him, eyes flickering curiously up to his scar before settled back on the rest of his face. "And Ah had a thought tha' you'd make a pretty good un at tha'."

"Harry," Hermione cut in. "Harry, we were just looking for you."

Eachna dipped her head a little. "Ah best be goin' then. Ah'll see ya at suppa, yea?"

"Yea..." Harry's forehead wrinkled a little, as though he were just realizing what he'd agreed to. "Dinner..."

"Before you eat dinner, you better eat lunch," Ron advised jokingly. He set the basket down.

Harry looked around him. "Good morning," he greeted slowly, looking surprised to see them three. "I didn't realize you were out here."

"We were actually looking for you," Hermione repeated.

"What's in there?" asked Harry, eyes focused on the basket. He looked up. "And why were you looking for me? I was only gone a minute."

"The two are actually connected," answered Ginny happily, a bright smile on her face. "See, we were looking for you to see if you wanted to go picnicking with us."

"Hence the basket."

"Picnicking?" Harry gave them a blank look. "I'm not sure I've ever done that before."

"What?" Ron looked affronted. "You live in the middle of the woods and you've never gone picnicking?"

"I've gone hiking by myself," came the defensive answer.

Ron shook his head and Ginny added, "I'm sorry, that's just not good enough." She laced her arm around his. "You're just going to have to come with us, then."

"Oh, come on, Harry. It's just the gardens. Nothing frightening in that."

"I said I don't want to go in there," Potter replied stubbornly, standing at the entrance to the gardens with his arms crossed over his chest. He eyed the looming trees and statues, then brusquely added, "I have my reasons."

The two Weasleys sighed together, and Granger placatingly asked, "Then where else can we picnic?"

"I'm not even sure I want to picnic with you anymore. If the next task is any worse than this month's, I'll need to prepare for it."

A dry laugh interrupted the four from their arguing, and Draco smirked at them. To Potter, he said, "That is one of the worst excuses I've ever heard, Potter, and you know it. I doubt you'll ever try to prepare for any task this year." And to the others, he took a step forward to add, "And don't think I haven't realized what you're trying to do. I'm not going to get left behind, though."

"Not for lack of trying," Weasley muttered dryly. His sister elbowed him hard.

Draco walked up to Potter, noticing how tense the other three were. He shot them a smug grin. 'I think that they've caught on,' he noted to himself viciously. 'Potter won't say a word to them, and they've finally noticed."

To rub it in, he gestured for Potter to step away from the others, out of the range of their hearing. The three almost flinched and Draco couldn't hold back his victorious smirk. They started hissing amongst themselves, shooting him terrible looks. Not that it bothered him. Lazily, Draco glanced at Potter ans asked, "Any news? Your Gryffindor friends look more excited than usual."

Again, Potter was looking at him like a friend almost eager to please, and he even smiled slightly. No, smirked. "I'm afraid you missed a few greater events," the Gryffindor informed him in an amused tone. "You missed seeing one of the other champions' long speech about how unfair it is, my being placed above them."

"Being placed?"

Potter shrugged. "I believe that, since I was the first one technically given the antidote as I wasn't ever poisoned to begin with, I received the most points for this task. I'm in the lead, now, and the Portuguese champion wasn't pleased with it at all."

"Pity."

"I'm almost tempted to think that this champion suspects I arranged the kidnapping myself, plotting and gaining the leeway needed to actually make the antidote in the first place."

"That sounds very devious of you," commented Draco with a raised eyebrow. "It were true," he added, smirk growing, "I'd have to say you were practically Slytherin. Except, of course, for the part where you returned with antidote for everyone."

Harry sighed, shaking his head again, the smile growing. "I remember you saying not to do that," he admitted as they started walking towards the others, "but imagine how much worse it would be if I really was the only healthy champion today? Nothing I could say then would make anyone believe me innocent."

"I see you finished you little talk," Granger greeted them coldly. "Something secret, was it? Or else why would you have to walk so far away?"

Draco sneered at her, and a thought suddenly occurred to him. Quickly, he glanced towards Potter, gauging his expression, and then slowly replied to the witch, "Of course we had to walk away. Not that we had anything secret to say--Potter was just telling me about those other champions--but, simply put, I just don't feel safe around you three anymore."

Weasley rolled his eyes, just as Draco had hoped he would, and loudly answered, "That hurts us, Malfoy, almost. After all, we only spent the last four years hating each other-"

"Exactly." Malfoy glanced over to Potter again, then focused his eyes on Granger. "You see, I was thinking last night about exactly how risky our current positions are. I would never admit anything to an Auror--it's my own family who is in danger. And my family trusts Potter implicitly, so he is no worry." Slyly, he made sure Potter was paying complete attention as he finished, "But we four, we've never really got along at Hogwarts. And you, Weasley, you always used to say how you'd use anything to get back at me."

"Just spit it out, Malfoy," Potter interrupted, surprisingly. He was looking at the three in disbelief, but there was a little fear being realized...

Draco only smirked more at the outburst. "Well, I've only just realized how badly my family could come out, if these Gryffindors went spilling to the Ministry---and they are all connected with the Ministry. I'm not sure they won't just run off to the next Auror they see. I have no reason to believe that they won't."

Potter stiffened, head slowly rising to meet Draco's eyes. He looked almost pleading, as though he were asking Draco to stop. He asked, voice curious and soft, "Do you think they would do that?" He didn't want Draco to say anything more, but Draco had no intention of stopping. Not until those three realized that they couldn't do anything. Not until they realized that they had better stop.

He had wandered around all morning looking for Potter, just as he had the night before. It was getting infuriating, worse when he found the teen in the company of these three Gryffindors. 'He's not yours,' Draco wanted to sneer at them. 'He belongs to my father, now, and you can't change that.' And now they would realize that.

The Slytherin seemed to think the question over, thoughtfully placing chin in his hand. There was, however, some dark amusement in his eyes as he said, "Of course they would. To them, it would be the...right thing to do. I'm actually surprised they haven't run off already--even if you're a friend," and he spat out the word, "they hardly owe me anything. They'd run off to the proper authorities on principle of snubbing a Malfoy."

"Well," Granger started indignantly, tossing her head. Weasley looked speechless, probably with the fact that he couldn't run off like Draco said--no matter how much he now wanted to, just to get back at the Slytherin--because it would be a strike against Harry as well.

The other Weasley rolled her eyes. "If you were so curious about that, Malfoy, you could have just asked us what we were going to do instead of making up some elaborate lie. Harry, do you honestly think we'd tell anyone else if we hadn't already."

"You might be waiting for the right moment," Draco suggested nastily, sneering. His eyes darted quickly over to Harry and what he saw only made that sneer widen. Everything, of course, was working just the way he wanted it to. She tried to look at Harry the same way, but his expression was closed to her. "You can't go tattling off when either of us are around, can you?"

"It's just silly," she tried.

Draco turned to look at her, eyes lidded lazily. "Yes," he drawled, "you'd like us to believe that, wouldn't you? Don't imagine for one second that you have us unaware."

He stopped to run a hand through his hair. The condescending look he sent their way had nothing whatsoever to do with his height. In a familiar way, Draco heavily set his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Come on, Harry," he suggested, drawing out Potter's name. He smirked. "We don't have to put up with this anymore."

"There's nothing to put up with!" the girl Weasley started. Her brother was beside her, glaring holes into the Slytherin's face. Granger, however, shushed them with a serious, understanding expression that made them both shut up.

Potter, green eyes glinting dangerously, gave the three a quick look-over before taking a step back. "It's true, isn't it?" he asked hesitantly, swallowing loudly. His eyes dropped onto Draco's, searching for something, than returned to the three standing before him. "I can't believe this..." He shook his head and then turned around, walking away.

Draco stayed where he was, staring at Granger with the smirk still on his face.

When Harry was a distance away, the Slytherin reached into his pocket. "Here," he offered smugly, dropping a piece of paper to the ground. "Be prepared, at least, for what's coming. Not that you'll be able to do anything about it."

Ginny stayed quiet only because of the vicious glance Hermione sent her way, and managed to hold her tongue until both boys had left the immediate area. She was about to speak when Ron bit out, "What the devil was that all about, Hermione?" He looked furious, face red and angry. He jabbed sharply towards the direction of the two. "Really, what was it all about? I'd like to know why Malfoy got away with-"

"If you had contradicted him," Hermione cut in smoothly, carelessly coming her fingers through her hair, "you would have only helped him. Weren't you watching Harry at all. Every time you denied something, Harry only looked more and more lost."

"Harry didn't look lost to me," Ginny muttered darkly, folding her arms onto the table and glaring resentfully at the plate of food in front of her. "He looked suspicious."

Hermione smiled sadly. "...exactly. He didn't know what to think. Malfoy knows a bit about Harry right now, that's obvious, but we know our own share now. Malfoy's using what he knows against us. We have to do the same against him."

"That sounds... wrong," said Ron, dumbly. He blinked. "We are talking about Harry, aren't we? Not some animal or object."

"Do you remember what you saw?" Hermione asked bluntly. "Only bits--but Harry grew up with Death Eaters. They were teaching him spells! You said you saw him from when he was a little boy to maybe right up to the day his parents died. Draco Malfoy's father was a Death Eater. Their family has been manipulating Harry since he was practically born. We need to get Harry out of that situation, but in Harry's current state, we can't just..." She trailed off with a furious hand gesture.

Ginny reluctantly laced her fingers together, staring after the direction Harry had gone. "We need to manipulate Harry to get him away from manipulation," she rephrased.

Ron, meanwhile, had leaned down and picked up the forgotten paper Malfoy had trashed. "What's this?" he murmured, unfolding the note. The girls continued their chatting, starting to plan how to save the day's ruined plans, and when Ron tried to show them the dropped letter they only ignored him.

"Fine," he said, though they didn't hear, and he started to read:

'Saturday. Bring him. They want to meet. Lestrange.'

He tried to read it over and over again, but none of the words changed. Rolling his eyes, Ron slipped the parchment into his pocket. "So much for the warning, Malfoy," he muttered darkly. "Even if it is, it makes no sense whatsoever."

"Ron, are you listening?"

He looked up to see both girls staring at him with identical, impatient expressions. With a careless grin, he shrugged. "Maybe," answered Ron, "maybe not. Why? Something important?"

Ginny motioned to the forgotten basket of food. "We're going after them," she announced gravely, "and we're going to do whatever Harry wants us to do as long as it gets him to just stay with us awhile."

Ron groaned as he picked the picnic basket up. "You do realize," he stated as they hurriedly started after the vanished Potter, "that whatever Harry wants will probably be whatever Malfoy wants."

"It doesn't matter right now," Hermione replied determinedly. Her eyes were fixed ahead. "What matters right now is that we get Harry to trust us. No matter what." Her nose wrinkled. "Even if that means doing what Malfoy wants."

"Just think of it this way:" Ginny volunteered cheerfully, "we can pretend that we're paying Malfoy back for letting us come to his house--which we'll have to do eventually. If we get that out of the way now, we won't have to worry about it in the future. So, if Malfoy gets Harry to make us do something, we're getting two tasks done in one go."

"Easy for you to say."

"Come on, Ron." His little sister made a show of exasperation. "What else can we do?"

"It's not like you have anything better to suggest," Hermione pointed out.

Ron smirked at them. "I didn't say I wouldn't follow your plan, Hermione," he replied in a whiny tone. "I will. I just won't like it."

"That goes for the three of us."

Five weeks into the new school year, and the colors of the trees were beginning to fade. Only a few, and only just slowly, but fall was coming.

The four Gryffindors and single Slytherin of Hogwarts trudged down through the forest grounds. Hermione, the leader of the exploration, halted, slightly out of breath, to push some wavy brown hair from her eyes. Ron stretched his shoulders and looked around. "There's nothing like this at Hogwarts."

They stood in the middle of the forest that surrounded the school, going up on an incline towards the hilltops. Trees shook in the high breeze, their leaves making odd music and shading the students from the sun above.

Ginny nodded, walking up to sit beside Hermione. The fifth year smiled at her, then looked up to Ron to say, "And they don't let us into the Forbidden Forest, so if there was anything like this, we wouldn't know." Talking of how the Forbidden Forest back at Hogwarts was literally forbidden only reminded her that this forest, also, was forbidden, that she was breaking school rule doing this thing. 'But it was the only way to get Harry out here...'

She looked back to the group's stragglers, the ones that had decided on this outing through the forbidden grounds. And, she knew, Malfoy had only wanted to come out here because he thought that they'd refuse. "Do you know how long we've been out here?"

Harry shook his head, and Malfoy didn't even reply. Shrugging, Hermione stood up again, stretching like Ron had, and began going up the trail again with Ron and Ginny right beside her. "When I was little, my family used to take long hiking trips," she said, voice getting fainter as the three moved on ahead, not noticing the two teens that lagged purposely behind. "We used to leave on Friday and not come back until Monday..."

"My father wrote me," Draco informed Harry once they were out of ear reach. Harry's green eyes flickered to the Slytherin, but otherwise he showed no indication of hearing the teen. Draco continued, "He says that there is problems at the Ministry concerning your brother. They actually started awhile ago, at some press conference they held-"

Harry missed a step and nearly stumbled. "What about my brother?" he demanded, looking up at Draco.

"He is telling reporters that the only reason you'll succeed at the tournament is because he's helping you." Draco pushed some blond strands away from his cold gray eyes, and glanced quickly to Harry. "Some of the other countries have protested, taking him seriously. They'll be reading your owls, next."

Harry frowned, but was more resigned than concerned. "It doesn't matter. I've decided to stop sending letters after today." His eyes narrowed slightly, looking up through the leaves to the sun above, and he swallowed. The lack of response from his brother had saddened him more than he wanted Draco to know.

"Harry! Malfoy! Are you coming?" Hermione yelled, and they looked up to see the three far ahead. Harry raised a hand to wave at them, then looked back at Draco.

"Was that it?"

The blond teen shook his head. "My father also asked to tell you that some of the other Death Eaters would like to meet you. Just to make sure that you aren't some Ministry spy."

"They don't trust me?" Without waiting for an answer, Harry said, "If it can be arranged, then I'll meet with them." He blanched. "Sirius use to tell me stories of spies who helped the Ministry and who landed many Death Eaters into Azkaban. I can understand their suspicion of me."

Talking about Sirius reminded Harry about the years he spent in the care of the man, of the Auror. He could almost shudder with disgust. Ten years under the teaching of his mentors, and he still allowed himself to come into contact with such evils. Well, now he wouldn't have to put up with it any longer. All he needed to do now was to help return the Death Eaters to their former glory... and get Leo away from the murderer.

The two caught up with the others, and they tromped along as a single group through the forest, Hermione giving out bits of information from her hiking days and Ron adding something he'd learned living so close to a forest of his own.

"There was this one time when Fred and George took us out on this 'picnic.' You remember, don't you Ginny?"

Ginny nodded. "They took us to the middle of the woods and left us there! I thought I was going to get eaten by a werewolf."

"What about you, Harry?" Ron asked, looking back to the dark headed Gryffindor. "You said you hiked a lot where you live. I'd guess that you like the forest better than the city."

Harry unwillingly nodded, and to Ron's prompting said, "I've almost always lived away from big cities."

Malfoy shifted behind him, and Harry resisted the urge to look back at the Slytherin. Even so light a reference to his life living with his parents was clouded with the subject of Death Eaters, and Harry was certain the blond knew all about his parents' erratic moving habits.

Hermione smiled. It seemed she was trying her best to start this friendship. Harry had been most surprised when she agreed to come with him on this illegal romp through the woods. "I envy you that. My parents moved into London when I was eight to start a dental business, so we hardly gone out to the forests now. Whenever we do go out, it's to a mall or movie." She paused thoughtfully. "Although we do take a few trips out of the country now and then."

"We're always outside," Ginny confided as they hiked further along. "If not playing Quidditch, then just playing or swimming. Plus there's always the yard work to be done."

"De-gnoming the garden," Ron added with a chuckle. He flexed his hand muscles. "It's always a contest to see who can throw the creatures the farthest." At Hermione's gasp of indignation, Ron blushed and hurriedly said, "Of course, the gnomes don't get hurt or anything. They probably have a good time. Who wouldn't?" Hermione rewarded his efforts with a scandalous look, and Ron tried to save himself by changing the subject. "What about you, Malfoy? You ever spend time outside, or are you too busy cleaning the family dungeons?"

"Ron!" Hermione squeaked, cheeks reddening.

Draco casually responded, "Forgotten so soon? My family's manor alone could encompass the little shack of a home you Weasleys squeeze into, never mind the grounds and the dungeons. But, yes, I spend my fair share of time outside." He smiled insinuatingly at Ron. "I have to train the dragons, and of course there's Quidditch practice with my tutor."

"Why you..." Ron's face had gone as red as his hair.

"Let's stop here a moment," Hermione suggested a little stiffly. She pointed to a clearing to the side, soft grass looking a tempting place to rest. "It's about time for lunch, don't you think?" Without waiting for an answer, she set out for the clearing and pulled from her robes the shrunken picnic basket. Ron glared at Draco, then reluctantly joined Hermione, muttering all sorts of things under his breath.

"I don't think you have to be so suspicious of them anymore," Harry softly told the satisfied Draco. "They've agreed to come with us, haven't they? And to avoid Aurors, and any other terms we can think of to prove their trustworthiness."

Draco fixed him with a look. "Is that supposed to mean anything?" he drawled, raising an eyebrow. Harry stared back until Draco added, "Really, Potter, I'd have thought better of you then to consort with Weasleys, but if you insist." He seemed to shrug his shoulders, then walked towards the clearing as well, choosing a spot as far away from Ron as possible.

Ginny made a noise in her throat, sighing with relief when Draco left, saying something about taking a short walk around the area. "Thank goodness," she muttered darkly. "I thought they were going to have at it, probably would have if Hermione hadn't stopped them." Harry didn't respond, and she looked at him. "Are you coming to eat?"

He met her eyes a brief second, then looked away. "In awhile," he promised. "I'm not very hungry."

"Just because you're not hungry now doesn't mean you won't be," the youngest Weasley promised. "I've spent enough time in the woods to know that you should eat at regular times if you don't want to suffer." She waited a bit longer than shrugged, turning for the clearing. "Suit yourself." When she reached the others, Hermione asked her a question, and the redhead shrugged, motioning to where Harry was still standing.

He wandered along the path a few minutes, eyes down on the trail, wanting to just feel some solitude. The month had been too fast-paced for him to keep comfortable, and now it seemed as though his privacy was going to be permanently invaded, whether by friends or foes.

'As if I can tell them apart anymore,' he thought to himself bitterly, kicking at a rock. First, confusing Draco as a liar and then having the other three confused as enemies as well. He kicked at another rock. 'You're messed up, Potter. You need to get straightened up.'

He'd been walking some time before he saw them:

Two creatures out of legend, it seemed, playing across the clouds of the sky. He could only just make out their forms through the leaves, and hurriedly rushed out to where the trees thinned so he could see them uncensored. And it turned out to be more than he expected.

The skies were alive with a host of creatures. Flying, diving with more skill than humans could hope for, the beasts roared fits of laughter at the great chase. Griffins, eagle wings spread out and lion body clawing the clouds.

Harry pushed away a tree limb in disbelief as the host settled down, closing their wings to fly onto a smooth valley where two hills connected. Their barking laughs still called up to the sky where the center of the chase continued.

Flying through the sunlit clouds was a bird greater than any bird could hope to be. Its tail alight with fire, the phoenix gracefully soared the heavens. At the end of that tail was a creature no less magnificent: a gryphon, king of the griffins with the full body of a lion and wings that looked stripped from an angel.

His breath caught in his throat. The griffins, their eagle heads sharply watching the chase, didn't notice him at the edge of the trees. Some had even laid down for a nap while others bit at each other, starting friendly competitions among the king's escort.

The phoenix dove suddenly from the sky like a meteor, startling the griffins into nervous chirps, but it landed softly on the ground in their midst. Seconds later, the gryphon also settled down, content with a rest before resuming the chase. It licked its massive paws, paws large enough to swat Harry down with no effort whatsoever, stretching out like an overgrown kitten in the sun. The phoenix let out a short whistle of melody, wrappings its feathers around its body like a fiery blanket.

The griffins respectfully drew to a pause, some leaving and coming back with branches of fruit that they placed before the might phoenix, and others leaving--presumably to find some other food better fitting the griffin king.

Harry crawled back into the trees when one griffin headed his way, his heart pounding in his chest. The creature's head was almost as tall as Harry, and compared to the gryphon it was a shrimp.

The griffin wandered closer and closer, but then gave up its search and bounded back towards its king just as another griffin brought out a snack-sized animal for the gryphon's hunger.

Harry swallowed and backed away further, backtracking his way down the trail. He hadn't realized he'd gone so far.

Just when he gave one last look towards the direction of the creatures, a hand grabbed his shoulder.

Harry started, jumping back, and Ron drew away as well in concern. "You okay, Harry?"

"Where were you?" Hermione asked. "Weren't you hungry?" Harry shook his head wordlessly. The witch frowned.

Draco stretched his arms, coming up with Ginny beside him, though neither looked too pleased with the arrangement. "How much longer will we be spending up here?" he asked, lazily pushing his hair back from his face.

"Why? Can't handle a few hours hiking?" Ron asked, challenged.

Draco smirked. "Of course I can, Weasley. Don't get too concerned." He looked at Harry. "But as today is the first day, I had thought that they'd announce the next task at dinner."

Ginny's eyes widened. "That's right," she breathed. "They're supposed to tell everyone what the task is."

"We'll just figure it out again," Ron said. "Like we did last time. Although, poisoning the champions isn't my idea of a real tournament."

"It's a winner takes all, loser bite the dust sort of thing," Draco replied dryly. "I wouldn't expect a Gryffindor like you to grasp the concept."

"I think it's a good idea to start heading down," Hermione interrupted firmly, sounding as if she'd had enough of the bickering and insults. Her idea of a friendly day outside was completely trashed, as well as her hopes in a friendship--or at least a truce--between everyone. She frowned distastefully and wiped imaginary dust from her robe before looking up expectantly.

"Come on, then. It's halfway through the afternoon. We'll have just enough time to clean up before heading to the Great Hall if we hurry." She started down, the others slowly following after save Harry.

Harry cast one last look back up the trail, thinking of the awe-inspiring creatures that rested just out of eyesight, then followed down the hill as well, back to the school and its bitter competitions.

With luck, the next task would be better.

Author's notes posted at the Yahoo group. Thanks for reading.

March Madness